Page 52 of Emma on Fire

“They what?”

“They were bigger than us, honey,” Byron says. “Your mother and I tried. From when she was a little girl, we got her the best therapists, we spared no expense—”

“Yeah, but did you ever talk to her?”

“I’m not a mental health professional.”

“No, you were herfather.”

A few beats of silence pass; the sound of his footsteps stops.

“I’m still her father, Emma. And I’m your father too.”

Emma closes her eyes. She can’t forgive him, and she can’t forgive herself. And when guilt piles on top of grief,the burden is a thousand times heavier. The fear that had been circling around her narrows, tightens into a firm decision.

“You are my father,” she agrees. “And you’ve taught me very well. If working is what helps you grieve, you better get the next few days booked solid.”

“Emma, wait—”

She hangs up, then blocks his number.

CHAPTER 41

EMMA’S FEET START taking her around the room again as she loses herself in another conversation with her dead sister. “Did you hear that? I tried, with Dad,” she says. “I wonder if you did too.”

She pauses at the motel door and peers out the peephole. The afternoon sun glints off the cars in the parking lot. A pair of pigeons squabbles over what looks like the remains of a Big Mac. They’re probably going to die from blocked arteries.

“I know you were hurting,” Emma goes on. “I know you felt like there was nothing to look forward to. But when did you decide that life was too much? And did you have doubts? Did you drive back and forth on that road, trying to work up the courage to twist the steering wheel? What was it like? How did you finally make that turn?”

A lump rises in her throat. It’s as familiar as it is painful. She keeps talking.

“I’ve read about people who jumped off the Golden Gate Bridge and survived. They say the second they let go of the railing, they knew they’d made a mistake.” She shudders when she imagines that long, terrible plunge.

“But you had a chance to undo that first mistake. You crashed your car into the pole, but it didn’t kill you. You could’ve survived. You could’ve changed your mind. But when the car caught fire, you stayed inside it. ‘There was no indication that the victim tried to escape.’ That’s the worst part of it for me. Knowing that you made the decision to die not once, buttwice.”

And then she’s crying too hard to talk anymore.

Claire is the only one who can help her. Except the verb should be past tense.

Clairewasthe only person who could help her. From now on, she’s on her own.

CHAPTER 42

The day of the fire

JUST BEFORE DAWN, Emma dreams about her sister. Claire’s standing on a hill of snow, wearing a wool hat bright as blood. She’s trying to tell Emma something, but the wind snatches away her voice. Emma, barefoot for some reason, tries to run toward her sister, but she keeps breaking through the snow’s crust. Stumbling. Falling.

Emma wakes before she reaches Claire, heart pounding like she’s actually been running.

Tears sting the corners of Emma’s eyes as reality sinks in. Every morning the loss of Claire settles into her chest with a dark, familiar heaviness.

Sometime after nightfall, Emma lay down on the lumpybed. For the first time in weeks, she slept through the night. Maybe knowing that she’s nearly done—that everything’s almost over—allowed her to finally relax.

Emma gets up and brushes her teeth. She’s still in her clothes, and though she lost one of her socks in the bed, she doesn’t feel like looking for it. She runs her fingers through her tangled hair, slips on her shoes, and hitches her backpack onto her shoulders.

She buys a granola bar from the vending machine and nibbles at it as she walks back toward Ridgemont Academy. It’s 6:45. The sun’s barely peeking over the horizon. Fog obscures the shapes of buildings, turns birch trees into ghosts. As she nears campus, her steps get slower. Her feet feel like they’re made of lead.

Ridgemont was supposed to be a haven: a safe, beautiful place where eager students were taught by accomplished teachers. Where bright young minds were nurtured, strong characters were formed, and the love of learning was fostered.

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